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October 10, 2013 11:51 pm

Wrote this a while ago, and decided to post it now. Don’t ask me why.

Ok, Abba. Here I am. Send me.

I know I should’ve come to You hours ago. But I think I needed to talk it out with a human to ensure that I’m not just going mad. Maybe this is from You, to remind me that no man is going to change who I am and that I am who You created me to be and I’m trying to believe that that is a beautiful thing.

You created my wanderlust. My passion. My passion. My passion. I have all of this passion, this thirst inside of me to experience the world and fight for justice and love people and do good. You created this intensity in me that I often find burning in my own hands because I can’t give it to others no matter how hard I try and other people can only deal with it for so much of the time. You created the ocean in my heart that sooths, but also runs powerfully deep and wide and sometimes pulls me under with the tide. You’ve created this mind that analyzes problems and sees solutions, but then fumbles when it comes to people. Abba, You created me in all my intensity.

And You can use it.

Oh, I pray that You use it, Lord. Use me.

What is my life if I am not a conduit for Your will? Meaningless, meaningless, everything is meaningless! Given half a chance, I will run out on everything that matters. And I will fade away from everything that doesn’t. it is You, and only You, God, that tells me when to stay. And when and where to go.

Abba, sometimes I wish I wasn’t so intense. That I could be a complacent, nice girl who just wants to be a teacher or something “normal” and get married and have 3 kids and maybe join a book club or teach Sunday school and contentedly ignore the fact that we’re on this tiny, rapidly spinning blue planet waiting for the day we die. That I could be satisfied with a normal, pleasant life.

But I can’t. I’m naught but grass, but I can’t help but desire that my few days on this planet may affect others in their numbered days, and that they’d realize that the days are indeed numbered and the American dream is meaningless. That everything we make for ourselves is meaningless.

Abba, I’m following You. Because I’m weak and blind and mortal. Show me Your Spirit. Open up my eyes to the things unseen. Show me how to love like You have loved me. Let me clearly be Your daughter, Your warrior. Give me wisdom in what to say, what to do, how to act in order to love people, to build relationships, to share this fire that You have placed in my soul. Be in me. Flow through my veins and sink deep even into my bones.

Abba, I love You so much. Thank-You for loving me even more than I can possible imagine.